"I'd like to know what you mean by that, and I'll trouble you to
tell me," says I.

"Well, you know, Vigours lit out and left all standing," said he.
"It was some superstition business - I never got the hang of it but
it began to look bad before the end."

"I've heard a different story about that," said I, "and I had
better tell you so. I heard he ran away because of you."

"O! well, I suppose he was ashamed to tell the truth," says Case;
"I guess he thought it silly. And it's a fact that I packed him
off. 'What would you do, old man?' says he. 'Get,' says I, 'and
not think twice about it.' I was the gladdest kind of man to see
him clear away. It ain't my notion to turn my back on a mate when
he's in a tight place, but there was that much trouble in the
village that I couldn't see where it might likely end. I was a
fool to be so much about with Vigours. They cast it up to me to-
day. Didn't you hear Maea - that's the young chief, the big one -
ripping out about 'Vika'? That was him they were after. They
don't seem to forget it, somehow."

"This is all very well," said I, "but it don't tell me what's
wrong; it don't tell me what they're afraid of - what their idea
is."

"Well, I wish I knew," said Case. "I can't say fairer than that."

"You might have asked, I think," says I.

"And so I did," says he. "But you must have seen for yourself,
unless you're blind, that the asking got the other way. I'll go as
far as I dare for another white man; but when I find I'm in the
scrape myself, I think first of my own bacon. The loss of me is
I'm too good-natured. And I'll take the freedom of telling you you
show a queer kind of gratitude to a man who's got into all this
mess along of your affairs."

"There's a thing I am thinking of," said I. "You were a fool to be
so much about with Vigours. One comfort, you haven't been much
about with me. I notice you've never been inside my house. Own up
now; you had word of this before?"

"It's a fact I haven't been," said he. "It was an oversight, and I
am sorry for it, Wiltshire. But about coming now, I'll be quite
plain."

"You mean you won't?" I asked.

"Awfully sorry, old man, but that's the size of it," says Case.

"In short, you're afraid?" says I.

"In short, I'm afraid," says he.

"And I'm still to be tabooed for nothing?" I asked

"I tell you you're not tabooed," said he. "The Kanakas won't go
near you, that's all. And who's to make 'em? We traders have a
lot of gall, I must say; we make these poor Kanakas take back their
laws, and take up their taboos, and that, whenever it happens to
suit us. But you don't mean to say you expect a law obliging
people to deal in your store whether they want to or not? You
don't mean to tell me you've got the gall for that? And if you
had, it would be a queer thing to propose to me. I would just like
to point out to you, Wiltshire, that I'm a trader myself."

"I don't think I would talk of gall if I was you," said I. "Here's
about what it comes to, as well as I can make out: None of the
people are to trade with me, and they're all to trade with you.
You're to have the copra, and I'm to go to the devil and shake
myself. And I don't know any native, and you're the only man here
worth mention that speaks English, and you have the gall to up and
hint to me my life's in danger, and all you've got to tell me is
you don't know why!"

"Well, it IS all I have to tell you," said he. "I don't know - I
wish I did."

"And so you turn your back and leave me to myself! Is that the
position?" says I.

"If you like to put it nasty," says he. "I don't put it so. I say
merely, 'I'm going to keep clear of you; or, if I don't, I'll get
in danger for myself.' "

"Well," says I, "you're a nice kind of a white man!"

"O, I understand; you're riled," said he. "I would be myself. I
can make excuses."